


home, home, where i wanted to go

by ApollosArtemis



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Happy thinks about home, It starts kinda sad oops, Toby makes it better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29335404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApollosArtemis/pseuds/ApollosArtemis
Summary: Happy Quinn has never been at home anywhere.But then, there is Scorpion, and there is Toby Curtis, and suddenly she is.
Relationships: Toby Curtis/Happy Quinn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	home, home, where i wanted to go

It’s a given, something written in the stars that she can’t escape from no matter how far she tries to go, that home was meant to be a place. 

One place. One address. One house, with the same people, and the same love, the same sheets and the same pillows and the same paint on her walls. It’s something she knows exists, something she can almost taste when she’s over at Lily’s house, but it’s not hers and when it fades, she’s left with nothing. 

Nothing that’s hers, anyway. It’s somebody else’s house and somebody else’s room, with somebody else’s stuff and somebody else’s wallpaper, and it’s always somebody else’s parents that sit her down and tell her that if they could keep going, with her, they would. But they can’t. Because nothing is hers and she’s not theirs, not their child, not their everything, not their priority. 

People describe home so beautifully, talk about homemade food and pets and game nights or hanging out in gardens. They talk about memories, about moments that have become part of who they are, but when asked  _ when  _ they’re home, it’s usually coming through the door. Not their door, their parent’s door, the one they walked through on their way to school, the one they remember getting a key for, the one they didn’t lock one day and had to knock on the next time they came back. 

Home is a place. It has to be a place. 

She doesn’t have a place, doesn’t have memories of laughter and sprinklers and monopoly. There’s no place to come back to, no place that has any traces of her, no place that has people who will tell their people about her. Home is a place, and she doesn’t have one. 

The garage is the first place she feels home. It’s still not  _ her  _ home, but it’s her people and her desk and she knows that if she spends enough time within these walls, some part of her will intertwine with the frame. As a group, they consider it a second home, but on her own, that seems weird. How can there be a second of something there was never a first of?

It’s in books. In poems. In songs. 

Home is not a place. Home is a person. 

It’s wrong. Not fully, because home is not a place either, but it’s not completely correct. 

Toby Curtis does not fill the void that is a missing childhood home. Does not make up for 16 years in the foster system and the everlasting fear that everything and anything she has can be ripped apart by anyone. 

He does, however, turn her apartment from “apartment” into home. 

Before they were dating and in love and  _ forever _ , when all he was, was annoying and too friendly and a little too understanding, all she did in the space she owned was sleep, shower and occasionally eat. It was always brief, never longer than it had to be, because above all else it was lonely and it was boring, and it was nothing more than necessary. She knows in her soul that if she could have stayed at the garage forever and always, if she could have done what Walter still does and live there, she would have. 

But now, it’s sunlight in her bedroom,  _ their _ bedroom, and it’s pancakes and music sung along to by Toby, it’s dancing in the kitchen and failing miserably at baking cookies. It’s Christmas trees and blanket forts and falling asleep to rewatches of tv shows and Disney movies. 

It’s the exact same space, just with more stuff. And one more person.

She knows, already, that they won’t stay in this apartment forever. That they’ll outgrow it and move on to bigger, to better, to buying something instead of renting it.

But she also knows that Toby will make any house into a home. 

Because she is, finally, home. 


End file.
